


Bed of Gold

by celedan



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bath Sex, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Cultural Misunderstandings, Dwarf & Hobbit Cultural Differences, Dwarf Courting, Everybody Lives, Feeling unworthy, First Time, Fix-It, Gold Sick Thorin, Gold Sickness (Tolkien), Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Self-Conscious Bilbo, Smut, Stubborn Dwarves, Virgin Bilbo, bagginshield, courting, stubborn hobbits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29699907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celedan/pseuds/celedan
Summary: In his attempt to help Thorin, Bilbo has to realise that he has become just another object of the king's obsession. Because he loves Thorin, he allows the Dwarf to do with him as he pleases even if it leaves him heartbroken. After the battle though, Bilbo is determined to settle everything with a stubborn, ashamed Dwarf king.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 22
Kudos: 274





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sweet is the Sound of Falling Rain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12188241) by [Chrononautical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrononautical/pseuds/Chrononautical). 



> I didn't choose the Rape/Non-Con Warning for this story since, technically, Bilbo consents to have sex with Thorin. Keep in mind though that there is definitive a dubious consent element here.  
> That said, have fun reading.

The flickering flames of torches reflected mountains of gold and jewels, throwing ominous patterns all over the dark stone walls and mighty pillars. Bilbo Baggins watched from a spot deep in the dark, where the torchlight didn't reach him, where he was hidden from prying eyes.

Although, to be honest, he doubted that the sole being he was currently watching with worried eyes would even care about his presence.

Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, was much too busy restlessly scrabbling through the hoard of Erebor like a common thief for the one price he desired with all his heart. Even from a distance, Bilbo could see the proud Dwarf's hands trembling as sturdy, strong fingers sank into gold coins and gems with soft, clinking noises, shoving the treasures aside almost carelessly, could see his lips move in frantic, feverish mutterings that made no sense to anyone save Thorin himself.

An ache pierced Bilbo's heart, constricting his chest like a vice until he had trouble breathing. He ached for Thorin with all he had. He mourned the proud, stubborn Dwarf he'd met in Bag End all these months ago, who had regarded him with disdain from the beginning, but who had, against all odds, become a dear friend during their long journey across Middle-Earth. A friend who had learned to trust a Hobbit above all others, but who was now the one being to betray him. 

Bilbo grimaced involuntarily. 

He didn't want to betray Thorin like that. With every minute that passed, Bilbo felt the guilt of his actions race through his veins like foul, acidic blood eating him out from the inside. The Arkenstone which he had hidden in a pocket close to his body seemed to burn hotly against his skin, and, in his mounting trepidation and paranoia, he was amazed that its heat and unnatural inner shine didn't bring his secret to the light through the threadbare fabric of his clothes for all to see. 

But, ultimately, he didn't see any other choice but to keep the king's jewel hidden from Thorin. None of the others would have done what Bilbo had. They were much too loyal to Thorin to betray him like that. Bilbo was loyal to him, too, but in a different way. He wasn't bound to him by kinship or the fealty the others felt for their king. He was bound to Thorin through friendship and... well, best not to bring these quite impossible feelings to light. What Bilbo had done, he had done out of worry, spurred by the deep friendship he felt for the exiled Dwarven king. 

He had actually believed to make things better by taking the Arkenstone and hiding it from Thorin, but it didn't get better. With every passing hour, the king became more restless, more irritable, more suspicious of every living being, even his friends and kin. As of yet, he hadn't said anything, hadn't dealt out any accusations like sharp blows, but Bilbo could see it in his narrowed eyes when he scrutinised the rest of the Company as he frantically considered who of them might have taken the king's jewel, could see it in the scowl marring Thorin's face – these days the only expression he still seemed to be capable of. 

That is, if he was with them at all. Thorin was cutting himself off from all of them more and more, seeking only the company of the gold. When the others were digging through the hoard for long hours on Thorin's orders, he was, too, apart from them, but still throwing suspicious glances their way now and again as if he didn't dare leave any of them alone with his gold for even one moment.

For a split second, Bilbo had thought the save arrival of Fili and Kili would break Thorin out of his mounting madness. That his relief and happiness about having his nephews back would be stronger. 

No such luck though. 

He seemed even more determined to find the Arkenstone now; to secure the kingdom, not only for himself but for his nephews and heirs as well if Bilbo interpreted his growled mutterings correctly. Thorin didn't even perceive the worried, distressed looks the two young Dwarves threw him, mirroring Balin's and Dwalin's expressions in particular considering the brothers were Thorin's oldest and closest friends and confidants. 

It was no use. Something had to be done. And if Bilbo was the one who had to be the one doing something, then so be it. Maybe it was a fool's hope, but if he attempted to simply talk to Thorin once more, he would have some unexpected luck (he didn't really believe in it himself, but at present, no alternative would come to him).

Clearing his throat, Bilbo straightened up, gathering all his courage with the movement, and left his hiding place in the shadows.

“Thorin,” he called softly, but Thorin didn't react. Only when Bilbo repeated calling his name, louder now, did the Dwarf turn around to him. Pale yet burning blue eyes regarded Bilbo calmly, his head cocked in mild surprise.

“Master Baggins,” he acknowledged the Hobbit, and inclined his head. Even the hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “What brings me the pleasure of your company?”

Bilbo attempted an answering smile, even though it was more a polite grimace than a real smile. “Thorin, ah... I was wondering...” Biting his lip uneasily, he clasped his hands behind his back, and started rocking on the balls of his feet. “Ehm, won't you come out of here to eat something? It must be ages since you've last had a decent meal... or... any meal at all.”

He pressed his lips shut tightly to stop himself from prattling too much total gibberish in his nervousness.

Thorin stared at him some more, his expression intense and unreadable, and although Bilbo started to feel uneasy under the scrutiny, he withheld that eery gaze stubbornly. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Thorin slowly shook his head, the heavy golden-black crown on his head catching the light and gleaming fiercely, menacingly, for a moment. “I don't require any nourishments nor any company,” he answered, almost strangely formally.

Bilbo grimaced in despair. He opened his mouth to argue, but the sharp flash of  _ something _ in Thorin's eyes made him quickly swallow the words again. A frisson of fear actually raced through him for a moment. Opening and closing his mouth a few times like a gaping fish, his fingers fiddling with the matted fur cuffs on his oversized coat, he needed a moment to compose himself again. 

But let it not be said that a Hobbit couldn't be as stubborn as any Dwarf, especially when said Hobbit had Took blood running through his veins. 

Straightening to his full height, Bilbo refused to let the matter rest completely, and stubbornly ignored any unease he felt. Ultimately, he knew that it was no use to argue with Thorin, nowadays less than normal, but maybe a bit of a subtle approach... 

“Ah, okay... well...” Rocking a bit more on the balls of his feet, Bilbo swung around in an exaggerated move to make his way back to the others, hoping that...

“Although,” Thorin's voice stopped him in his tracks all of a sudden. With hopeful anticipation and also a bit of smug pride fluttering madly in Bilbo's chest like a caged bird, he turned back around, wide-eyed. He met Thorin's thoughtful gaze. The king inclined his head once more. “I wouldn't be averse to  _ your _ company.”

A soft “Oh”, pleased and wondrous, made it past Bilbo's lips, and he advanced on Thorin again. He would have actually preferred for Thorin to agree to have something to eat – Bilbo would have even been fine with fetching something for Thorin to eat  _ in here _ –, but he took what he was offered. Slowly, he forced himself to gift the Dwarf with a smile. 

“Sure, yes, I'd love to,” he agreed carefully, the little bird in his chest beating its wings like mad with hope and the proximity to Thorin.

An honest smile was his reward, so bright and warm as if he faced the Thorin of old all of a sudden (not that the old Thorin had been a ray of sunshine, but still, he'd had his moments in the past, the grumpy, brooding idiot of a Dwarf). His heart lurched at the sight, filling Bilbo with warmth. Complying with Thorin's inviting gesture, he stepped even closer, and perched on the edge of a polished stone ledge that protruded from between all the gold the architecture of this huge hall lay buried under. 

For a few long minutes, they were poised like that; the Hobbit sitting on the ledge, looking up to Thorin expectantly, the Dwarf standing a few feet away, still regarding him with that strange expression. 

“I want to thank you,” Thorin finally said, his voice low and measured. “What you have done for my people and me can not be compensated with all the treasures you find here. But nonetheless be assured that you will get your reward, together with the eternal thanks of the line of Durin.”

Blushing against his will at the unexpected and honest praise and gratitude, Bilbo ducked his head. “No, I...” He grunted, and cleared his throat while waving his hand dismissively. “It was nothing. I was glad to help.”

He jumped when Thorin suddenly stood before him. With wide eyes, he looked up at the king who stared down at him with a sudden intense gleam in his eyes that send an involuntary shiver of cold dread down the Hobbit's back (he adamantly refused to acknowledge the sizzle of excitement that gripped him as well as that almost possessive gaze was focussed solely on him alone). If he hadn't been so frozen in his confusion about his indecently conflicting feelings, he would have flinched when Thorin reached out a gloved hand to touch the tips of his fingers to Bilbo's cheek almost absent-mindedly. 

“So humble,” the king murmured, his intense eyes raking over Bilbo who stared back at him with something akin to fearful awe.

And then, the moment was over as sudden as it had come up. The look in Thorin's eyes vanished to be replaced by a more familiar stern, proud gaze that seemed to always be edged onto Thorin's face. His hand slipped down to prod at Bilbo's shoulder.

“Leave me now,” he ordered without any malice or coldness in his voice, almost gently shoving the Hobbit away. “Seek the warmth of the hearths and see that you get a hot meal into your belly.”

Bilbo knew when he was dismissed. A renewed protest was on the tip of his tongue, the urge of wanting to argue with Thorin that he needed those things, too, strong within him, but he held back for now. 

Nodding jerkily, he slipped from the ledge and slowly left Thorin, all the while feeling the king's piercing gaze in his back.

Bilbo didn't know how to assess what had happened that afternoon, how to gauge Thorin's mood in the big picture, since, although he became worse, more aggressive, and cold, and suspicious towards his kin, he changed his behaviour towards Bilbo in an almost peculiar way. He suddenly started demanding his presence at his side more and more, whereas before, he had outright ignored him together with the others. Bilbo wasn't supposed to do anything though when he was with Thorin, just keep him company. Only once in a while was he even expected to  _ say _ anything. He was just supposed to be  _ there _ , like something that gave Thorin comfort and peace of mind (the other alternative that flitted through Bilbo's mind acidly, liking him to one of the trinkets Thorin was so possessive about, didn't even bear thinking about).

He'd never felt so awkward, helpless, and useless in his life as when he had to watch Thorin like that for almost every minute of the day.

His situation wasn't improved by the myriad of feelings swirling through Bilbo when in Thorin's presence.

On the one side, Bilbo wanted to be in Thorin's company, he practically basked in his presence; during their long journey, he had never spend so much time alone with the regal Dwarf, so now to have him for himself was exhilarating. But on the other hand, his dread about Thorin's behaviour grew, so that he would have liked to flee more than once, but any excuse like having to help the others look for the Arkenstone was for naught. Thorin even told him that it wasn't Bilbo's place to search the mounds of gold although the Hobbit argued back that it actually _was_ his task. They had hired him to retrieve the Arkenstone, and, as far as the Company knew, he had failed in that task. 

But Thorin was adamant. “Your obligations are fulfilled,” he told him firmly more than once. “Without you, we would never have come this far. Now it's up to the others to serve their king like you have done.”

And that was that.

Every time, Bilbo had to hold back a desperate, exasperated sigh at the bloody Dwarf's stubbornness. 

Thorin's peculiar behaviour worsened (hard to believe that that was even possible) in fact after a disturbing scene up on the battlements when Thorin had caught Bilbo with the acorn in his hand. At least, for Bilbo it had been disturbing. He had been terrified of Thorin finding out the truth, seeing the murderous look in the king's eyes that had been focussed on him as Thorin thought he held the Arkenstone in his hand. Terrified of what Thorin would do to him if he  _ actually _ found the Arkenstone in Bilbo's possession.

For Thorin though, that moment – during which he had almost been his old self, the heart-rendering, warm smile he threw Bilbo as he realised the innocence of Bilbo's actions almost enough to melt the Hobbit's heart and knees – had seemed like some kind of turning point. He demanded Bilbo's presence at his side even more, almost every waking moment in fact, and now indeed guarding him as jealously as he did his gold. But although his mad possessiveness worsened, he was kind to Bilbo, caring, and warm – in a strange way, Bilbo had to admit. Thorin's sharp eyes regarding Bilbo with a strange mix of tenderness and possessiveness worried the Hobbit to the core, but at the same time, it made his heart yearn during these brief, stolen moments of gentleness and kindness. 

But when, only a couple of days later there came a moment when Thorin unexpectedly gifted him with a mithril shirt, Bilbo thought, for a brief, frightening moment, that he was now released from his obligations. That this “token of friendship”, of which Thorin seemed to be so proud of to present it to him almost reverently, was the sign that he was free to return to the Shire, to leave the Dwarves to their own affairs now. 

Despite how things seemed to spiral downwards with every day, Thorin had another thing coming if he thought that Bilbo would leave them now after everything. 

After reluctantly slipping the way too flashy shirt underneath his clothes, shivering at the cool metal on his bare skin, Bilbo wanted to open his mouth to protest, but he was struck speechless by the gentle expression in Thorin's eyes – rendering his fears about being send away invalid. Also, the almost overwhelming presence of the others witnessing this moment, strangely mute and with awed expressions on their faces was something Bilbo found tremendously strange, which he shoved to the farthest corner of his mind for now though. 

All attempts at protest died on his lips for good when Thorin leaned in to him in confidence to tell him about true friends being hard to come by these days, giving voice to his suspicions that one of the others had stolen the Arkenstone from him as clearly as if he had shouted it from the top of the mountain.

A lump closed up Bilbo's throat and made it hard to breath. It hurt to see Thorin suspecting his friends and kin although they were innocent while the real culprit actually stood before him, and was being considered a true friend. 

His resolve hardened to end this madness once and for all. Some scraps of shapeless ideas whirled through Bilbo's mind. But before he could even give them any real thought, the startling feeling of Thorin's hand briefly touching his elbow brought him back into the here and now. 

He blinked when he looked after the others who were marching to the entrance gates of Erebor in full battle-armour to obey their king's orders to protect the mountain against everything, be it friend or foe.

Bilbo swallowed hard, afraid and disapproving of Thorin's plan, but nonetheless, he would follow him, too.

He hadn't even raised one foot to follow his friends when Thorin's low voice rumbled in his ear.

“Not you,” he said, close to Bilbo now, so impossibly close. “You come with me.”

Puzzled, his head whipped around to Thorin just as he was just in the middle of putting on his blue coat again. But the king only spared him a moment's glance before he turned around. His hand landing on Bilbo's shoulder suddenly tightened into a claw-like grip so that the Hobbit had no other choice but to follow Thorin if he didn't want to be dragged away in an undignified stumble.

They ended up back in the treasury, and Bilbo's confusion grew.

“What are we doing here, Thorin?” he asked a little testily and irritated after he had managed to shake off Thorin's hold on him. 

The Dwarf rounded on him with a stern, unyielding expression on his face. “You will stay here.”

Bilbo gaped at him. “Wh... Excuse me?!” he spluttered. “I will do no such thing.”

Thorin canted his chin stubbornly. “Oh yes, you will. It's safer for you down here.”

“I can hold my own in a fight, I have proven that, Thorin,” Bilbo bristled, his hands balling into fists at his sides in his mounting anger. “I refuse to let you go up there alone to face whatever may come. I will stay at your side!”

Bilbo's stubborn refusal surprisingly conjured a gentle smile onto Thorin's face, and the hard glint in his eyes vanished for a moment. He stepped up to Bilbo, and raised his hand. The cool leather and cold metal of his gauntlet brushed over Bilbo's cheek.

“Always so loyal, my burglar,” he murmured, and shook his head. “You have no idea how precious your loyalty is to me, as precious as all the gold of Erebor.” 

At those words, Bilbo almost felt bile rose up in his throat. If Thorin only knew... 

The gentle expression then vanished from Thorin's eyes to make way for a hard, determined glint. “And that's why your place is down here. That way, I can protect you and the treasure all the better if I know you to be together.”

Once more, all Bilbo could do for a moment was gape at Thorin, not believing what he was hearing there. 

In the next moment though, his indignant rage boiled over. “Who do you think you are, Thorin Oakenshield!?” he bellowed. “You can't store me away down here as if I'm a part of your treasure!”

All of a sudden, before Bilbo could even react, Thorin got into his face. “I can, little burglar!” he roared, a mad, unhinged gleam back in his eyes that made Bilbo want to stumble back and flee, but Thorin's hands shot out to clasp his shoulders in a hard grip, pinning him into place like the rabbit before the snake. “You are as precious to me as my treasure, as the mountain, and like them, you are mine and mine alone!”

Renewed rage bubbled up in Bilbo, mixing with naked fear into an acidic, stomach-turning sensation. Once more, he wanted to retreat, but Thorin's grip was strong and unyielding. 

Unbroken though was his stubborn streak, and he opened his mouth to vehemently protest the Dwarf's madness-induced claim on him, thank you very much. But before he could get out even one syllable, Thorin's lips were on his all of a sudden, any noise of protest waning into a whimper that was stifled by Thorin's rough mouth on his.

The first thing Bilbo felt was naked shock born from surprise. 

The next emotions that crashed down on him were more complicated, freezing his body in conflicted confusion. 

On the one hand, feeling Thorin's lips on his that seemed to burn him like a furnace was something he had dearly wished for for weeks now. Right this moment, with Thorin kissing him, he couldn't deny his attraction to the Dwarf king any longer, couldn't hide from his own feelings any longer. They had built up stealthily over the last couple of weeks, maybe months. There was no definite moment when he had realised that he was  _ in love _ with Thorin Oakenshield, but at least he supposed that it had all started with that hug on the Carrock. If there had been any attraction beforehand, he couldn't tell since, most of the time, Bilbo had been much too disgruntled and exasperated with the bloody Dwarves, this Dwarf especially. 

On the other hand... No matter how much he may have yearned for Thorin's touch, still did, even in this very moment, badly and desperately, he didn't want it to be like that. He didn't want Thorin to make him his – obviously in some way at least reciprocating Bilbo's attraction if maybe not the Hobbit's romantic feelings – while the Dwarven king he had come to respect and love was in the clutches of this accursed madness, obsessing over his treasure, and counting Bilbo among it. It hurt almost physically to be merely treated like a prized possession.

He wanted to shove Thorin away, wanted to loudly voice his unease and heartbreak about what was happening, but his damn body betrayed him, and it obviously didn't feel that Bilbo's reservations were a strong enough reason not to react to Thorin's advances in a passionate way. Unwanted need raced through his body like hot flames bubbling through his veins – wild arousal and primitive want so strong he had never experienced something like that before. He felt like a bowstring that suddenly snapped, releasing all the pent-up urges inside of him he hadn't even known were slumbering deep inside of him. 

This was nothing compared to the gentle feelings of youthful infatuation he had experienced once or twice in his younger years – feelings he had never acted upon since it had never felt completely right. 

Now though, no matter how torn his mind and heart may be about what was happening, it did feel right for the first time in his life. He was  _ hungering _ for Thorin, hot pangs of desire nestled deep in his belly, and Bilbo's body urged him to grasp what was in his reach with both hands. But at the same time, he was also adamantly trying to ignore any tender feelings of love he may feel for the king since it was a foolish hope to nurture them in the first place. Without an ounce of doubt, Bilbo knew that he wouldn't stop Thorin from making him his; from taking Bilbo's innocence from him. With utmost clarity, he knew he was Thorin's; body and soul, and this moment was probably his only chance to have Thorin as well thanks to whatever strange urge had possessed the Dwarf to seek out Bilbo in that way. 

A last pang of sad regret flashed through Bilbo before he, to protect himself and his heart, shoved these thoughts away to the farthest corner of his mind to instead give in to what was happening in this very moment. He mustn't think now, just feel. 

His arms came up to wound around Thorin's neck, clinging to him, but neither encouraging the king nor stopping him. He was overwhelmed with the fierce passion Thorin smothered him with like something tangible. 

Bilbo's world suddenly tilted, and he gasped into Thorin's mouth in shocked surprise. Helplessly, his fingers dug into the thick fur of Thorin's cloak as the king  pushed the Hobbit down onto a pile of gold. Without any struggle, he let himself be wrestled to the ground, frozen still in shock as he was as he realised that indeed more would happen here than a passionate kiss. 

He lay immob ile underneath Thorin as the Dwarf began quickly stripping him from the waist down. Coins shifted underneath their combined weig ht, clinking mockingly and digging into his back. 

When Bilbo's lower body lay bared before Thorin, half aroused but still mortified and self-conscious, the king didn't look at _him_. First, Thorin grasped the frayed fabric of Bilbo's shirt in his strong hands and tore the shirt open to expose the mithril shirt underneath. And only then did Thorin stop. He sat up on his haunches to look down at the Hobbit beneath him with a greedy, intense gleam in his eyes. Bilbo felt Thorin's burning gaze rake over his whole body like a physical caress that send shivers of arousal through him, felt him devour him with his eyes, but a feeling like cold acid sat in Bilbo's stomach again as he realised that Thorin desired the sight of the mithril Bilbo was wearing just as much as the Hobbit's body. He felt desired and repulsed at the same time.

Before Bilbo could feel too sorry for himself, Thorin descended on him, kissing him hungrily once more. Again shoving all negative emotions violently away in a desperate attempt to deceive himself that what they were doing was borne from an act of love, not greed, Bilbo clumsily returned the kiss with no less passion. He allowed the hot spark of arousal to flare brightly, frantically trying to nurse it into a sizzling flame hot as dragon fire that would surely burn away all his grief to ash.

At least for a little while until cold reality set in again.

Bilbo felt bereft when Thorin pulled back from his mouth, and instead trailed his burning kisses down the Hobbit's frustratingly eager body. It betrayed him again as he started moaning almost obscenely, and writhing, and trashing under Thorin's ministrations. He felt himself grow fully hard, and the Hobbit caught himself grinding his awakening length against the unforgiving, cold, and hard metal of Thorin's armour in a desperate search to quell some of the burning in his loins.

Thorin's hot, wet lips and hands, his gauntlets somehow discarded along the way, made a burning trail down Bilbo's body.

“So soft,” the Dwarf rasped, the bristles of his beard scratching and tickling Bilbo's soft skin. His warm breath was puffing humidly against the skin as his big, strong fingers kneaded Bilbo's soft middle which was, at the moment, pitiful compared to the normal girth of a respectable Hobbit. 

Thorin continued mumbling hot, possessive words of praise into Bilbo's flesh and skin, part Westron part Khuzdul, his reverent growls echoing through the vast halls to blend into a buzz of noise that surrounded them both. 

Crying out as thick fingers tweaked a sensitive nipple, Bilbo's gaze strayed upwards unseeing, the ceiling of the treasury so high that it was shrouded in darkness anyway.

Mixing with Thorin's grumbles was the sharp scream of pleasure that was ripped from Bilbo as all of a sudden, burning wetness encompassed his rock-hard length. Shocked beyond words at Thorin's bold actions, his wide eyes flashed down to where the Dwarf lay between his spread legs, Bilbo's pale skin a sharp contrast to the darker skin of Thorin's hands on his flesh or the midnight colour of his hair spilling over his white thighs. He couldn't help but keep his wide eyes fixed onto Thorin's head between his legs. The sight of the king's mouth stretched obscenely around Bilbo's hard length, paired with the overwhelming sensations of wet, hot tightness was almost enough to catapult him over the edge.

The relentless sucking that started all of a sudden really nearly was his undoing; Bilbo felt the pleasure tingling in his lower body race higher and higher through his veins like a spreading wildfire, but then, Thorin suddenly let his slick length slip from his mouth completely.

All words of protest died in Bilbo's throat as the Dwarf moved lower. When a hot, wet tongue started lavishing his hole with saliva,  _pushing inside_ insistently, Bilbo was completely shocked out of words or even thought for a long while again. Panting heavily with garbled cries tumbling over his lips in between, he let himself sink back onto the hard gold, closing his eyes as he surrendered to the shocking act – which, he couldn't deny, felt awfully good. He'd never even imagined a practice like this could exist!

He was jostled around as Thorin threw Bilbo's legs over his strong shoulders to gain better access, and Bilbo found himself shuffling and wriggling down as close as he could to Thorin's wicked, probing tongue that wetted him so thoroughly.

All too soon for his liking, Thorin pulled back, leaving Bilbo's heated, wet skin exposed to the cold air of the treasury so that he sucked in a sharp breath at the not all unpleasant sensation. His gasp was swallowed by Thorin's mouth as the Dwarf shuffled his way up again to take Bilbo's own mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. Somewhere in his lust-addled brain, Bilbo knew that he shouldn't be so enthusiastic about the kiss considering where Thorin's mouth had been just a minute ago, but he found that he couldn't have cared less if the Dwarf only continued kissing him with so much passion.

He jerked when Thorin's hand suddenly wriggled between their tightly pressed bodies to take a hold of his weeping member. His sturdy fingers squeezed him tightly, teasing the spit-slicked, hard shaft for a moment before he wriggled lower, thick fingers replacing his tongue, opening Bilbo up for his pleasure. Bilbo couldn't help the obscene moans that were wrenched from him as Thorin's fingers moved so surely and relentlessly inside of him. It burned, but he tried to ignore that, especially when Thorin, after only a couple of moments, touched a spot inside of him that had the Hobbit see stars. A choked, garbled cry was wrenched from him, and he felt as if one of Gandalf's fireworks had gone off inside his neither regions, spreading through his whole body, and setting him ablaze. His body reared up while, at the same time, he tried to impale himself deeper on Thorin's fingers teasingly thrusting in and out of him.

All too soon, Thorin pulled them out, leaving Bilbo feeling bereft and empty once more. He gulped in huge lungfuls of breath so that he couldn't even beg Thorin to fill him up once more.

He didn't have to for, in the next moment, the blunt, hot head of Thorin's shaft bumped teasingly against his loosened, twitching entrance, but not yet claiming him.

Bilbo held his breath, all his feverish attention focussed on that one spot for a moment. This was it. He had never known the pleasures of the flesh with another being, but now he would, and despite everything, he was glad it was Thorin.

Almost dying with the anticipation, he watched as Thorin quick ly coated his cock with a layer of spit, Thorin's other hand gripped the Hobbit's soft hip firmly, thick fingers deeply digging into the sensitive flesh hard enough to bruise. His other hand guided himself to his price, and with one sharp snap of his hips, he penetrated his lover with unrelenting force.

All breath was pressed out of Bilbo, and a keening cry got stuck in his throat as Thorin breached him. Bilbo's hands curled into fists, anchoring himself on the gold beneath him, cool gold coins digging into the hot, sweaty palms of his hands, before one hand flew up instead to claw at Thorin's armoured upper arm, unsure if he wanted to shove him away or simply hold on for dear life. The other spastically opened and closed repeatedly, the coins clinking almost unnaturally loud in his ear as he once more sank his hand into the gold beneath him in a desperate attempt to hold onto something else but Thorin that may ground him, and be it only the accursed gold that had done all this to the Dwarf.

Bilbo panted heavily, trying to breathe through the burning pain that felt as if he had been split open by a burning rod. It surely would have been easier with some slick substance to ease the way, but he probably couldn't expect that much consideration in Thorin's current state of mind. He'd already been amazed that the king showed him so much care by preparing him so thoroughly.

Desperately, he willed himself under control. Slowly, as his pants died down to deep, controlled breaths, Bilbo's racing heart calmed down as well. His eyes had fallen shut tightly, and through the deep breaths and the sound of his heart pounding in his ear, he tried to simply _feel_.

Thorin felt so impossibly big and thick inside of him. So hot as if a glowing spear pierced his insides, making sensations race through Bilbo's body which the Hobbit couldn't discern into either pleasure or pain. It probably was a mix of both.

Thorin's first thrust after a few long minutes that had been granted to Bilbo to adjust caused his eyes to fly open again in shock. A strangled noise tumbled from his lips, his hands flew up to claw at Thorin's upper arms as he met the king's calm yet burning gaze with wide eyes. Bracing his arms left and right of Bilbo's head, Thorin began to move inside of him with measured though savage force. Every deep plunge inside Bilbo's body caused the Hobbit to gasp and mewl pitifully as he still couldn't say if his whole body was aflame with passion or pain.

As Thorin took him so hard and deep, Bilbo could do nothing else but lie pliantly underneath the Dwarf's heavy bu lk as silent tears ran down Bilbo's cheeks. 

Gradually, Bilbo felt better as he got used to the invasive feeling of being penetrated so forcefully. He learned to ride with the roll of Thorin's hips every time the Dwarf drew back out, the horribly burning stretch and pull on the rim of Bilbo's hole lessening gradually. Sparks of tentative, this time clearly discernable pleasure began bubbling through Bilbo's veins, and as his greedy body forced him to wrap his legs around Thorin's waist, the Dwarf took this as a sign of  consent . He picked up his speed, and was driving into the Hobbit now with almost feral force. 

Bilbo only realised he had screwed his eyes tightly shut again when they suddenly flew open at the gentle feeling of hot, calloused fingers stroking his cheek, smearing the wetness there although Bilbo couldn't tell if Thorin noticed his emotional, overwhelmed tears or not. He met Thorin's intense gaze, and felt hypnotised by it. His breath caught, and he was unable to move. 

Almost gently, Thorin pressed his forehead against Bilbo's while still rolling his hips into him, his heavy fur cloak falling around them both to shield them from the world around them so as if Thorin was jealously hoarding Bilbo away from everything else, collecting his cries of ecstasy, his soft, breathless pants, and the little jerks of pleasure his body succumbed to against his will, much like he hoarded away the gold and jewels in this hall. The unpleasant smell of old furs and dusty fabrics from Thorin's cloak tickled Bilbo's nose, but Bilbo nonetheless breathed them in deeply, desperately trying to get to Thorin's musky scent that lay underneath. 

Suddenly, the comfort of warmth and intimacy vanished, and Bilbo instantly even missed the mix of smells surrounding him as Thorin rose back up onto his knees, and dragged the Hobbit's lower body onto his lap. Bilbo mewled as, in that position, Thorin slid even deeper into him, his thrusts becoming even more forceful and deep. 

“When I have the Arkenstone,” Thorin rasped, voice surreally loud in the treasury, dilated eyes staring down at the Hobbit possessively while his thrusts didn't miss even one beat, “I will adorn you with its splendour, _Givashel_. Treasure to treasure. It is yours.”

Bilbo's whole body froze as the possessive, harshly panted words reached his ear. He felt as if he had been doused with cold water, and his arousal abruptly waned. Any illusion of loving intimacy he may have had left shattered, and he once more felt like a trophy Thorin could hoard away down here. He bit his lip hard to keep in the sob of despair that wanted to escape him. He only realised, through the throbbing pain, that he had drawn blood when Thorin bend down to greedily lick the drop of precious blood away, as if he was unable to let even one single bit of the Hobbit beneath him go to waste, as if he wanted every last part of Bilbo for himself.

Under different circumstances, Bilbo would have gladly given him all he was.

His arousal unexpectedly skyrocket though as Thorin kissed him forcefully. At the same time, the Dwarf's body stiffened, and he growled into Bilbo's mouth as he filled Bilbo with his hot seed in shuddering jerks. 

The feeling of being possessed so completely was too much for Bilbo. Despite his heart shattering in his chest, ecstasy raced through his helpless body. His shaking fingers clung to Thorin wherever he could reach, and he messily spilled between their stomachs.

Thorin deepened the kiss possessively for one last time before he sat back up. Unmindful of Bilbo's wince, he pulled out of his spend body abruptly, and rose to his feet. With dazed eyes, Bilbo watched Thorin right his clothes again. Then, he left, leaving the trembling Hobbit lying there amidst all his priced gold. 

A lone tear slipped from Bilbo's eye and down his cheek, and he forced his aching body into motion. Soft sobs escaped him, but no additional tears followed as Bilbo curled up on his side – he refused to shed more. The cool gold felt good against his flushed skin, but all too soon, he couldn't stand its touch for one second longer. 

Sucking in deep breaths, Bilbo scrambled up almost hysterically. He relocated his trousers and pulled them on, making himself presentable as best he could. His fingers were numb as he tried to button up his shirt with the two buttons that had survived Thorin's rough handling. Maybe he found some needle and threat somewhere to at least repair the worst damage. 

He must look pitiful, and surely, the others would know what had happened down here by taking all but one look at him. Bilbo had never, in all his life, felt as used and defiled as he did now while the cruel remains of lingering arousal still coursed through his body, making it pleasantly heavy and his mind drowsy with joy. 

Nonetheless, one thing Bilbo knew: What had just occurred had driven one point home for him. Up until now, he had the hope of having a chance to help Thorin in some way, to cure him in some way. But the new heights of obsession Thorin had ascended to, now including Bilbo in his madness, only seeing him as his possession just like his beloved gold, had made it clear to him that there was no chance whatsoever to help Thorin by talking to him. 

There was only one option left.

Carefully, Bilbo took a couple of steps, wincing when, with every step he took, a burning, sweet ache raced through his neither regions. Finally, he made his way from the treasury with slow, measured steps. Every second he was overly aware of this sweet pain that would linger with him for some time as well as the feeling of Thorin's seed leaking from his body (making him feel equal parts shame and possessive pride), and trickling down his thigh, the mess seeping through his trousers only hidden by his long, threadbare blue coat.

He found the others, Thorin included, up on the ramparts with an Elven army right in front of their gate, harsh words and threats echoing over the plane of Erebor. 

Instinctively, Bilbo's hand wandered to the hidden pocket in the depths of his coat, the heat of the Arkenstone giving the illusion of almost burning his fingers.

Hidden by the cloak of night, Bilbo stole away a couple of hours later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, in case any of you wondered: For the sake of the story, I had Bilbo wear the mithril shirt underneath his shirt, not above – imagine the scene you have just read if he would still have had his shirt under the mithril; not very sexy, right? Thorin wanted to have mithril on bare skin, not threadbare, dirty linen ;-)
> 
> Khuzdul Translations:  
> Ghivashel – Treasure of all treasures


	2. Chapter 2

Oh great, they were back to ignoring each other again. 

Or rather,  _ Thorin _ was ignoring him if not outright avoiding him.

When the king had been at death's door, trapped in fever dreams and completely delirious otherwise during the few moments he had been awake now and then, he didn't have much of a choice but to have Bilbo at his side. And in the couple of awake, lucid moments Thorin had, he had been heartbreakingly happy to have Bilbo with him. Weak as he was, he had clung to Bilbo's hand with all of his remaining power, begging him not to leave him, and telling him how glad he was that Bilbo was there. He'd even, much to Bilbo's eternal shock, entrusted the Arkenstone to Bilbo when Bard had come to bring it back, causing the Hobbit to severely question the king's mental health again – anyway though, since that day, since he didn't really know what he should do with it otherwise, Bilbo had kept the blasted stone hidden in the farthest corner of the wardrobe of the rooms he had been given. He'd have loved nothing more than to rather throw it into the deepest pits of Mount Doom...

Bilbo had to admit, these short, precious moments of lucidness had lit up a little hope in his darkened heart again; a hope that not all that could be between them had been destroyed by Thorin's madness and what he had almost done to Bilbo as a consequence. 

Dread still took a hold of the Hobbit now and then, unease when he was merely in Thorin's presence, but these moments became few and far between. If he overcame these trepidations eventually, Bilbo just  _ knew _ that there was a very realistic chance to re-kindle their friendship.

He had forgiven Thorin without any reservations despite the moments where he had to still convince his subconsciousness of that fact. After all, it had never been Thorin's fault. Bilbo just wanted his friend back, and forget about those dark days tainting everything that was good between them.

And for everything else that had happened... What had happened in the treasury... It would have to remain a one-off, wouldn't it. Maybe it was sick to think of their tryst that way as, regarded under a more critical, objective eye, Thorin had more or less forced himself on Bilbo. But the Hobbit couldn't help but hold those memories dear. Granted, if he would have ever been given the chance to choose how a first time between them should have been, it would have turned out a bit more... romantic and civilised maybe, but Bilbo wasn't a damsel in distress whose sensibilities had to be spared from the real world, nor was he made from glass. Maybe some would accuse him of suppressing the more dire implications of Thorin's actions to cope with it all, but then so be it. Those voices didn't know him at all then, and, as Bilbo had to admit, he hadn't even known himself all that well before that day in the treasury. Bilbo couldn't help but revel in what they had done, even if the circumstances may have been twisted and tainted by Thorin's state of mind. Just thinking about the Dwarf's rough, yet nonetheless caring hands on him, of his firm lips possessing Bilbo's, of his strong body taking Bilbo so completely had the Hobbit's whole being tingling all over pleasantly. 

He still burned with it; this secret love he felt for Thorin and the desire that set his whole being aflame even if this fire could only be played out in the protective cover of darkness, driven by Thorin's madness and stoked by Bilbo's own desires. After all, it was all he would likely ever have of Thorin, be it heart or body.

A romp in the dark was acceptable, but otherwise, Bilbo would never be able to be with Thorin officially anyway. What would people say; he, an ordinary Hobbit, together with the grandest king of all Dwarrowdom in Middle Earth. It wasn't proper. He was beneath someone like Thorin. 

The king's actions that day may speak of desire for Bilbo, but not of love. It couldn't be. Ever. 

Anyway, despite his own feelings, Bilbo needed to talk to Thorin since it wasn't any use to pretend that moment together had never happened if they ever wanted to be friends again. 

What put huge obstructions in his way to make peace with Thorin again though was the blasted Dwarf avoiding him now that he was more lucent. Seemingly from one minute to the other, he had pulled back from Bilbo, even going as far as sending Oin – as his healer – to tell Bilbo that Thorin couldn't receive any visitors because he needed to rest. 

Rest! As if Bilbo hadn't spend every waking moment at Thorin's side holding vigil for weeks on end! And now he needed  _ rest _ ?! 

Preposterous.

Be that as it may, Bilbo was powerless against the surly healer. It at least was a small comfort to Bilbo that he was still allowed to visit Kili and Fili who were rapidly recovering from their almost fatal wounds. 

When he raved and ranted though, pacing up and down in front of their sickbeds, the brothers only looked at him uneasily, and wouldn't really contribute anything helpful to Bilbo's rants. 

If he had to be honest, the brats seemed to hide something from him, and if they had been of better health, he would have had a serious word with them.

On one memorable account, even Balin had banned Bilbo from Thorin's sickbed – now transferred into the royal quarters –, diplomatically steering the seething Hobbit away from Thorin's rooms until they found themselves in another of the spacious corridors, not far from the royal quarters. Through the haze of rage clouding Bilbo's vision, he realised it was the wing where he himself was also staying (really, everything looked the same in Erebor! And Thorin dared getting lost in the bloody Shire!). 

Silently, Balin ushered Bilbo into a set of rooms that weren't all that different from Bilbo's – the signs of age and neglect were still visible, even if every available hand, starting from Dain's warriors to Bilbo himself, had done their best to clean out the worst of the dust and debris to give those that were staying in Erebor at least a comfortable place to sleep.

“Would you like some tea, lad?” Balin asked, and slowly, Bilbo calmed down somewhat, the old Dwarf's comforting, calm voice soothing his ruffled feathers.

“Yes, thank you,” he growled, and sat down on the rather flamboyant sofa that must be older than Balin and Oin combined, and horribly outdated at that – at least Bilbo  _ hoped _ that the design was outdated; it was difficult to get comfortable on something that, with its heavy red velvet covers and gold fringes, looked like it would have very well fit in the throne room instead of someone's private quarters. Really. For all their bluster and rude manners, Dwarves could be incredibly pompous; just look at the fuss they made about their intricate hair and beards! But he was getting off the point again...

A few minutes later, wrapped in a somehow awkward silence, Balin served them both some tea, the leaves no doubt courtesy of Dori's efforts to bring some properness and civility into the mountain – and endeavour Bilbo greatly appreciated and approved of.

The silence between them became so awkward that Bilbo was glad that he could hide his face inside his teacup. 

“Bilbo...” Balin eventually began, putting down his cup that he hadn't really touched anyway, the gesture probably more for Bilbo's sake than anything else. And that was the point where Bilbo realised something wasn't right here; he just hadn't figured out  _ what _ exactly.

“Thorin... he...”

“What, Balin?” Bilbo once again flared up, and put his teacup down with more force than intended to glare at Balin. “He avoids me. Even sends you and Oin to keep me away from him. What is his problem?”

“He only wants what is best for you, Bilbo,” Balin tried to appease him. Bilbo opened his mouth to protest, but Balin beat him to it. “We conferred, and he thinks it best that you maybe should leave Erebor. Return to the Shire, and live your life in peace.”

Bilbo sat frozen, and the only thing he could do was blink stupidly at Balin. 

“E-excuse me?” he eventually burst out. “He wants me to...” Bilbo shook his head violently. “No. Never. Forget it.”

“But Bilbo, lad...” 

“No!” Bilbo jumped out of his seat, and stared down at the old Dwarf, his chest heaving with agitated breaths. “No,” he whispered again, angrily blinking away the damn tears that started gathering in his eyes. “He can't... How can that be the best for me? Was it something I did? It's the Arkenstone, isn't it? I thought we had...”

Balin also rose, and stepped close to Bilbo, comfortingly grasping the Hobbit's shoulders. He cocked his head, his eyes warm with compassion. “You don't have to pretend, laddie. We all know it's about what  _ Thorin _ has done. Done to you.”

Bilbo searched the kind Dwarf's eyes, his own wide with shock. Once more, he opened his mouth to object, and once again, Balin was faster. 

“Lad. I'm not talking about what happened up on the ramparts because of the Arkenstone. That's really forgotten and forgiven.” His eyes narrowed intently. “I'm talking about what happened in the treasury...”

Bilbo's eyes widened in mortification, and heat shot into his cheeks at the prospect that somebody could have possibly figured out what had happened between Thorin and him. “How did you...”

“I couldn't be sure, but I feared...” Sadly, Balin closed his eyes. “I'm sorry.”

“Wh... Balin, no,” Bilbo cried. 

“I don't understand how you can forgive him so easily without any reservations. Don't get me wrong, I love Thorin like my son, but what he did to you, to his One...”

“He was sick, Balin,” Bilbo argued. “It wasn't his fault!”

“Yes, I know that, lad, but still. It's not an excuse. What Thorin attempted was really bad, even for a king.”

Adamantly, Bilbo shook his head. “You don't understand a thing,” he whispered hoarsely. Clearing his throat, Bilbo stepped back from Balin, the Dwarf's hands sliding from his shoulders, and he drew himself up to his full height as he finally composed himself again. 

“I don't answer to him, and won't allow him to send me away. He will have to banish me again if he wants me gone.” He raised his chin stubbornly. “Otherwise though, I will resolve whatever stands between us with him. Everything will be fine, you'll see.”

The two stared at each other for a couple of minutes in a silent duel of wills before Bilbo nodded curtly. “Thank you for the tea, Balin.”

And with that, he spun around to leave his friend. The Dwarf's heavy sigh accompanied him out of the rooms, but, although he felt slightly bad for being so impolite, Bilbo didn't stop his determined exit. He could apologise to Balin later since the old Dwarf only meant him well.

This was bad. 

Balin knew. 

Was he the only one? 

And even worse, he actually thought Thorin... had raped him! Maybe it hadn't taken that much more for that to happen, but Bilbo had consented to what had happened (even if a bit grudgingly) and had undeniably enjoyed it, no matter how bad his heart had shattered in the proccess. 

But Balin's believes only confirmed his worst assumption, right? That it had been only lust from Thorin's side when even Balin couldn't imagine that there were more tender feelings possible – or appropriate – between them. For the life of him, he couldn't imagine Thorin wanting him now. The greed and possessiveness while he had been in the clutches of madness had made him say certain things that had let Bilbo hope, and Bilbo was certain that Thorin cared for him, but not like that. And maybe not any more now that Thorin was in his right mind again. And especially after Bilbo had betrayed him so grievously by stealing the Arkenstone and giving it to Thorin's supposed enemies. No matter that it had been the right decision, and that Thorin had forgiven him for his actions now, he understood how hurt Thorin had been by that betrayal; had seen it in his eyes... 

A small whimper escaped Bilbo as one thought insistently tried to claw its way up to the surface: That he should, indeed, go. Leave everything he had found here behind, and not make it any worse by staying and try to fix the situation between them. 

But his traitorous heart wouldn't let him. 

He knew perfectly well, if somebody else had been in his place, he would have been horrified and furious with indignation on that person's behalf. He would have told them in very clear, chastising words that they really didn't have to do that to themselves, that enough had been done to them. That their task had been fulfilled. 

He wasn't somebody else but Bilbo Baggins though. If nothing else, he was stubborn.

He huffed decisively. 

He would fix this. He just had to.

Easier said than done though because Thorin continued to evade him. After Oin had cleared him for duty after weeks having to spend in bed, the king told him (or rather, let it be relayed to Bilbo) that he was much too busy to meet with him. He had a mountain to rebuild, needed to give his people a home who were slowly trickling back into Erebor from all over Middle Earth.

Tssk. Bloody, stubborn, rude coward.

The foolish Dwarf was probably ashamed by what had happened between them. That thought actually hurt, but it was all the more incentive for Bilbo to try at least save their friendship.

So, Bilbo could and would bide his time. And in the meantime, he threw himself into work much like Thorin was doing. He tried to help where he could. Naturally not with the heavy lifting that was required to clear away the debris, but with acquiring food for the growing number of Dwarves or helping Ori in the library to see which tomes and scrolls were salvageable from heavy neglect. Even meeting with Bard since he was a bit more diplomatic than most Dwarves (Thorin especially), and the human had become his friend (Bilbo was amazed though that they let him do that since, actually, Bard was another king, so what business had Bilbo by taking care of official diplomatic matters that were the king's task, or at least that of his advisors?).

And all the while, he hovered and waited for his chance.

The couple of times he actually saw Thorin was from afar, sitting in the council room with Bilbo at the far end of the table or sweeping past him through the mountain for this and that. 

Bilbo was surprised to see that Thorin didn't look all that well yet. He'd have thought that he must be glad to be up and about because, as he knew the Dwarf, the enforced bed-rest, though necessary, had probably chafed at Thorin's pride, having him sulk amidst the furs, sullen and foul-tempered. That, at least, was what Balin had implied.

Strangely, the Company seemed to aid Thorin in his grim quest to avoid Bilbo since they didn't go to any lengths to aid the Hobbit in getting close to Thorin. Did they know, too? Did they all think they had to protect him from Thorin for what they thought he had done? Or, worse, did they agree with Thorin that their tryst had been inappropriate, and now the damage done had to be contained as much as possible by not allowing the two a moment alone together?

Hopefully not, and the first chance Bilbo got, he would have to set their heads straight on the first assumption. As for the second... 

After the lady Dis had arrived one day in the worst of winter, a spitting image of Thorin, fierce and regal, but definitely not so foolhardy, Bilbo was sure that Thorin, in all good consciousness, wouldn't be able to hide behind his duties any longer now that his sister helped him rule the mountain, but no such luck. Thorin stubbornly still claimed to not find the time to meet with Bilbo...

These days, the Hobbit could be found roaming the mountain regularly, deep in thought, and sometimes even mumbling and hissing furiously under his breath. And if anyone had dared approach him closer, they would have gotten an earful about bloody, stubborn Dwarves and their fool-headed sense of pride, and honour, and whatnot.

On one of these occasions, furiously pondering the situation between him and Thorin, and how he could possibly resolve the mess they found themselves in, Bilbo happened upon the training grounds. Actually, he had never been here, but since he was in the habit of not really paying attention to where he was going when he was trapped in his own mind like that, it was no wonder that he ended up in various curious places – and from where he then had to ask for directions to get back to his rooms.

Harsh shouts, most of them growled in Khuzdul, grunts, and the sharp clank of metal hitting metal suddenly drew Bilbo's attention. Surprised, he looked around, and spotted an open door. Carefully, he peeked in, and realised at once where he had landed himself this time. He would have continued on his way if the two Dwarves circling each other like two predators hadn't been Thorin and Dwalin.

Bilbo's heart stopped for a moment because the two fighters were bare-chested, only clad in snug leather breeches and their customary sturdy boots. The Hobbit felt incredibly faint as he took in the king's naked upper body, and he quickly felt arousal tingle through his body. Centimetre upon centimetre of honey-coloured skin glistening with sweat stretched over bulking, thickly corded muscles. Coarse hair covered Thorin's chest, as dark as the long mane on his head that he had tied back in a single plait. 

His mouth hanging open in slight shock at the delectable sight, Bilbo's lax hands curled and uncurled into fists at his sides as his fingers instinctively twitched with the urge to run them through that thick mane, to caress the smooth patches of skin, to flick the small pebbled nipples that were just visible between the dark pelt on Thorin's chest.

The one time they had lain together, Bilbo hadn't seen much of Thorin, after all. Back then, it had been him who had lain bared to the Dwarf's hungry eyes while Thorin had still been completely dressed in his heavy armour, untouchable for Bilbo's yearning hands.

And during the whole of their quest, Bilbo had never seen Thorin naked when they had all stopped to take quick baths in cold rivers and lakes. That wasn't owed to the king being body-shy though – quite the opposite – but because Bilbo was much too self-conscious to disrobe anywhere near the Dwarves. He'd feared that they would find his soft, feeble body lacking, and he wouldn't have been able to stomach any ridicule from these Dwarves which he slowly started regarding as close friends. And it would have practically ripped his heart in two if it had been Thorin doing the mocking. Therefore, he had always kept to himself while bathing.

He regretted it deeply now since he could have enjoyed the sight of Thorin's bare skin for months now!

He had known that Thorin must possess a body like a God, but now, seeing it with his own two eyes, Bilbo had completely underestimated _how_ magnificent Thorin was.

Hungrily, Bilbo let his gaze roam over Thorin's form again and again. He looked absolutely glorious, sweating, his mighty chest heaving with controlled breaths. Bilbo would have wanted nothing more right this moment than kick Dwalin out of the room and pounce on Thorin.

It was Dwalin's taunting voice that abruptly jerked Bilbo out of his wanton daydreams. He flinched, and hastily drew back again a bit into the shadow of the open door. It really wouldn't do to be caught.

“Come on, you twit,” the taller Dwarf mocked, and challengingly threw his battle axe from one hand into the other and back again. “You're such a pathetic excuse for a king. Can't even settle things with your One because you're much too cowardly to even talk!”

“That's not funny, Dwalin,” Thorin growled, and gripped Orcrist tighter. 

“It is,” Dwalin countered. 

“I asked you to help me battle any lingering remnants of the gold-sickness, not give me relationship advice!” Thorin snapped, and with a mighty battle roar, he charged at Dwalin. 

“I believe that both matters are awfully closely connected, are they not?” Dwalin grinned grimly between the clashes of their weapons. 

Through the highly inappropriate arousal Bilbo felt, he slowly registered with the two Dwarves' words. Relationship? What did that mean? Were they... Did Bilbo just stumble upon a lovers' quarrel? 

His gaze was once more drawn to the two fighters whom he suddenly saw in a completely different light. 

It made sense didn't it, he realised with a pang in his heart. Thorin and Dwalin looked glorious together. Warrior and warrior, royalty and royalty, Dwarf and Dwarf. Even a fierce Dwarrowdam like Thorin's sister would suit Thorin better than...

Thorin's pained cry jostled Bilbo out of his head once more. The king stood bend over, clasping his chest. The recent wound he had received there by Azog's blade obviously wasn't as healed over as Thorin would have liked. He wanted to march in there and fret about Thorin while berating him at the same time for being so stupid.

He did none of the two.

Instead, Bilbo, with a heavy heart, drew even further back until he stood in the middle of the corridor once more without having been noticed by the two warriors at all. His feet carried him away from the training rooms completely silent.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for lots and lots of talking past each other from these two dorks ;-)

Bilbo's heart was heavy and made him feel more dejected than ever. His dark, gloomy thoughts and feelings of self-pity were a constant companion to him these days. Even though Bilbo was angry at himself that he was allowing these thoughts to take root in his mind, he was powerless against them. 

The images were just too strong. Almost every time he closed his eyes, he saw Thorin and Dwalin, sparring, looking absolutely glorious and right together – he wasn't even jealous, as he had expected, merely sad and feeling sorry for himself.

If Thorin and Dwalin actually were lovers, even before what had happened between Bilbo and Thorin the treasury, then he never had a chance in the first place. What was more, now Bilbo felt awful that it was probably his fault if the two Dwarves were fighting because Thorin had cheated on Dwalin with Bilbo – even if Bilbo, for the life of him, couldn't understand why Thorin would do such a thing if he already had someone like Dwalin.

Gradually, he came to realise that Balin was right, and it may be better to leave Erebor after all. Now he really didn't have a place here, and staying would eventually only let his heart crumble for good.

He sighed heavily as he slipped through the great doors that led to the royal baths – for all that had been achieved to get the mountain running again, they were still having some problems with running water. Therefore, all the Dwarves were having to rely on the public baths, respectively the royal baths for the royal family and the Company since both were supplied by hot springs. 

Bilbo felt uneasy going there. In the last couple of days, he had cloistered himself away from any company. No matter how the princes or Bofur begged him to dine with them or go to the markets together, Bilbo wasn't in the mood for such trivialities at the moment. The only thing he could think about was Thorin while he nursed his broken heart, and made tentative plans to return to the Shire in a faraway corner of his mind as well.

His wish to be clean outweighed his unease though, so Bilbo now found himself in the royal baths late in the evening where the chance of running into any other Dwarf was highly unlikely.

Swiftly going through the motions, Bilbo washed off the worst of the grime of the day in the spray of warm water in the secluded corner specifically designed for exactly that purpose before he made his way over to one of the deep, natural stone pools in the vast, cave-like room. 

A noise made him look up, and he almost fainted in shock. At the very least, he almost dropped the towel clutched to his chest. Because right in front of him stood Thorin. He was as naked as Bilbo, and blinked in surprise at the Hobbit. A slightly hysterical laughter bubbled up in Bilbo at the surreal madness that they were meeting in a place like this when, in the last couple of weeks, they hadn't seen much of each other at all otherwise. At the same time, he had to desperately make sure that his gaze was firmly fixed onto Thorin's face instead of the king's bare body, water from the pools sluicing down his body so that every dip and curve gleamed enticingly in the low torchlight. Surreptitiously, Bilbo lowered the towel he held a little bit more to cover up his crotch.

He sobered up quickly as his treacherous gaze that was wandering without his explicit permission came to rest on the horrid, still brightly pink but healthy looking jagged scar in the middle of Thorin's chest. He tried to hide his rude staring, but he couldn't help it since the sight brought back the horrifying memories of Ravenhill. Of ice, and despair, and blood. Of words whispered in a rasping, fading voice with both of them thinking back then that it would be the last words they ever exchanged in this world. 

Thorin, of course, noticed where his gaze strayed, and when Bilbo looked up again, he met the king's fond, gentle smile.

“I'm fine,” he assured softly, but as suddenly as it had come, the warmth from his gaze vanished, and made way for something else. Almost uneasily, the king averted his eyes.

“I should go,” he mumbled, and wanted to sweep past Bilbo.

Drawing in a deep, steeling breath, Bilbo raised his voice. “Thorin!”

The Dwarf stopped short, but kept his back to Bilbo.

“Please, don't go.”

Thorin's whole body tensed, and the muscles in his back shifted and contracted enticingly. Bilbo quickly trampled down on where his mind was going with that. 

“I shouldn't linger.”

“But we have to talk,” Bilbo insisted, even when he briefly entertained the thought that it was complete madness to talk here of all places, with both of them naked which wasn't in any way conducive for a productive conversation. But it wasn't his fault after all, wasn't it, when he couldn't get a hold of Thorin otherwise, no matter what he tried.

Giving off a heavy, burdened sigh, Thorin finally turned back around to Bilbo. Once more, the Hobbit had to force himself to only look at Thorin's face. What he saw there though made him frown. Thorin looked poorly. For weeks now, he had only seen him from afar – and even then he had noticed that the king wasn't looking as fit as he probably ought to –, but now that he stood directly in front of him, even though the light was gloomy in here, Bilbo could see the dark circles under Thorin's eyes, and his slightly haggard, pale features. The empty, lost expression in his eyes gave the impression as if Thorin had lost all drive to live, but that was ridiculous, wasn't it? 

On a first impulse, Bilbo wanted to snidely blurt out that it was no wonder Thorin looked bad if he insisted on fighting with Dwalin like a madman. 

He didn't though since this, too, wouldn't contribute to any sensible conversation that was to be had here. 

“You don't look fine,” Bilbo said gently instead, unable to hide the instinctive deep worry in his voice.

Thorin pressed his lips together, and once more evaded Bilbo's gaze. “I...” The king squeezed his eyes shut, his face drawn into a grimace as if he was in pain. 

Bilbo almost stumbled back a step when Thorin focussed his intense eyes onto the Hobbit all of a sudden, fierce determination flashing in the blue orbs. 

“I shouldn't have survived!” he blurted out, striking Bilbo speechless for a moment.

“E-excuse me?” he stammered, and stared at Thorin with wide eyes.

The Dwarf grunted, and turned away from Bilbo, suddenly seeming small, dispirited, and broken. He almost looked as if he was ashamed to even look at Bilbo.

Huh. Not a nice feeling at all when the Hobbit thought too closely on why that may be – it surely had to be connected to what had happened in the treasury...

Anger spiked up in him. Bilbo's mien darkened, and he pursed his lips surly. “Well tough, you'll live,” he snapped, completely pissed of with the Dwarf now. “I won't allow you to take the coward's way.”

“But I am though, aren't I!” Thorin exclaimed, and he abruptly dropped to his knees in front of the shocked Hobbit. Submissively, he lowered his head, his long, wet hair obscuring his face.

“I am a coward for even withholding the only thing I can offer you as compensation – my remorse.”

Thorin looked back up at Bilbo, shocking the Hobbit with all the naked pain in Thorin's eyes. 

“Please,” he begged, “please forgive me what I have done! I am aware of every single minute of my gold-sickness, and during every waking moment now, I see what I have done to you before my inner eye. I know that my madness may have been a reason for my despicable behaviour, but not an excuse. But please, Bilbo, I beg you to forgive me!”

The Hobbit stood there, rendered completely speechless. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times like a gaping fish, but no words would come to him. 

When, after a couple of moments, Bilbo still hadn't reacted to Thorin's intense display of emotion, raw grief bled into the Dwarf's eyes. “I know,” he gasped desperately, “that what I did is unforgivable. It is outrageous to even ask that of you in the first place, but maybe you can find it in yourself to at least _consider_ forgiving me. I can't go on like this, knowing you hate me.”

“H-ha... Thorin!” Bilbo frowned, finally jostled from his shock. “I never said anything about hating you. And of course I forgive you.” He involuntarily bit his lip. “Granted, I... still feel uneasy sometimes when I think about that moment, but I know you would never have tried to hurt me if you had been in your right mind.”

Thorin flinched as if having been slapped, but he nodded. “I wouldn't have,” he assured fervently.

Bilbo nodded. “Then it's alright. Let's just forget about that unfortunate affair, and be friends again.”

From one moment to the next, Thorin's shoulders sagged in apparent relief, and he bowed his head before Bilbo. 

“Then we can at least part in peace,” he whispered, and Bilbo frowned once more, all feeling of peace and relief settling around him a second ago vanishing again.

Bilbo felt all the blood drain from his face. “Part?”

Thorin looked back up at him, confused, and his face drawn in pain. “Why, yes. When you'll return to the Shire.”

Bilbo grimaced. “Thorin, I don't really plan to go back to the Shire.” 

Well, he had, but now, if he could maybe resolve things completely with Thorin, he wouldn't have to leave after all. He didn't _want_ to really leave after all. Heartbreak or no, he just realised that the friendships he had formed here were much too precious to him to let go. _Thorin_ was much too precious to him to never see him again, even if they would be only friends from now on. He pursed his lips in stubborn determination. 

“You have to throw me out of the mountain if you want to have me gone. Otherwise, I won't leave.”

The king shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, and his brow furrowing as if he was in agony. “It wouldn't be appropriate if you stayed.”

For a moment, Bilbo felt as if his heart had been ripped out with bare hands. It couldn't be real what was happening, it just couldn't! And just like that, his boisterous plans from just a minute ago crumbled to dust once again. He felt completely torn between his desire to stay and the drive to do what was right. Because he understood, probably now more than he had before: Thorin, as a king, needed to rely on a spotless reputation during his rule, and the shame of a dirty little affair with a non-Dwarf could very well undermine his integrity. Especially if Bilbo stayed, their secret would undoubtedly come to the light one day, and if Thorin really was with Dwalin, then it would neither be fair nor proper. Up until now, he just had thought about his own feelings. That there were possible political repercussions hadn't even crossed his mind.

“I...” Bilbo swallowed heavily, feeling completely numb. “I understand.”

Thorin dared a quick glance up at him before he lowered his gaze once more. “Of course,” he continued with visible difficulty, “you may keep the mithril shirt. And you'll also be rewarded for your services to Erebor.”

“I don't want to be rewarded!” Bilbo blurted out, hurt, angry, helpless, and confused, and with tears suddenly streaming down his face which made him even more angry. “And I don't want the shirt, Thorin, I want...”

Drawing in deep breaths, he stopped, his desperate, conflicting emotions rendering him unable to continue. He saw Thorin flinch violently.

“It's understandable that you would reject it,” the Dwarf whispered, crestfallen. “Forgive my forwardness.”

“Wha...” Bilbo blinked, angrily brushing the tears away. “What's that blasted shirt got to do with anything?!”

Thorin shrugged helplessly. “Well, you're right, it would be very improper if you kept a gift from me considering that you are rejecting me.”

Bilbo felt as if he had been dropped into another reality. Nothing did make sense any more. 

“Re... Rejecting you?” he breathed incredulously. “It's you who's sending me away!”

“Of course!” Thorin shouted, wide, pain-filled eyes seeking Bilbo's. “It's the only way to protect you from me. And even though it breaks my heart, it's the right thing to do. I don't have the right any more to lay claim to these feelings, but know that I will always love you, and you are not to blame for anything.”

Bilbo's mind came to a complete, abrupt stop. Mouth hanging open in shock, he stared at the Dwarf kneeling before him that returned his flabbergasted gaze with wide, haunted eyes.

“You...” Bilbo had to clear his throat. “Thorin, you... What did you just... You love me?!”

Surely he hadn't heard right? The world couldn't be so generous towards him...

The fierce expression from Thorin vanished all of a sudden to make way for confusion. “Well... yes. Of course I love you.” The king frowned. “The shirt, it... it's been my courting gift to you, after all, and when you rightfully rejected it just now...”

Bilbo wanted to, desperately so, but he was unable to listen to any further words Thorin may have said as the beating of his heart pounding in his ears drowned out every other sound. It was almost bursting out of his chest with its strong beat of faint, tentative hope and joy.

“Courting gift,” he mumbled stupidly. “You love me...”

Obviously finally fed up, Thorin rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Of course I do. Why do you think I gave you the Arkenstone?”

Taken aback, Bilbo frowned. He didn't really get what the damn stone had to do with anything now on top of it all. 

Quickly, he dug up the memories of that moment weeks ago. As he had sat beside Thorin's feverish body, fiercely praying to Yavanna while he had to watch Thorin fight for his life. When Bard had come to give back the Arkenstone, any intents of holding it back as a bargaining chip crumbled to dust by the greater horror they had all experienced in the battle. He had placed it onto Thorin's chest, and in that moment, Thorin had woken up. He had seen the stone, and then had sought out Bilbo's gaze. His words had been painfully weak, but nonetheless, Bilbo had understood him. “Keep it. Please.” And then, with his last ounces of strength, Thorin had taken Bilbo's hand, and curled it around the stone lying on Thorin's chest, his bigger hand encompassing the Hobbit's smaller one completely... 

So, what did that scene have got to do with anything?

“Ehm, for safekeeping?” the Hobbit eventually ventured a guess, feeling rather stupid as he had really no bloody idea what Thorin was getting at. “To protect you from... well, yourself?” 

“No... Yes,” Thorin exclaimed. “But also because... because it is the heart of the mountain. And I am the mountain as its king.” 

Bilbo frowned at that as he tried to untangle Thorin's weird reasoning. “So... you want to tell me that by giving me the Arkenstone, you've given me your heart?” 

“Yes, of course! Isn't it obvious?!” Thorin sounded quite relieved that Bilbo had finally managed to figure that out.

“You bloody Dwarves and your bloody secret rituals!” Bilbo burst out, and threw his arms in the air. “Of course it wasn't obvious to me. I'm a Hobbit!”

An awkward, heavy silence settled over them, and Thorin actually had the decency to look sheepish while still kneeling before Bilbo.

“So...” Bilbo cleared his throat, his nervous gaze flitting from Thorin and away again. His heart fluttered in his chest like a caged bird, and although he was reluctant to allow the hope to take root once more, he couldn't help himself. “Then you... And for Yavanna's sake, get up already, you're making me nervous!” From the corner of his eye, he saw Thorin get to his feet again. “So...” he tried again, “You and Dwalin are not...”

Thorin froze halfway up, and Bilbo would have laughed out loud at the comical image the king presented, frozen in a half-crouch, wide eyes turned onto Bilbo as if he had been caught out doing something naughty.

“What?!” he exclaimed when he was finally standing again. An incredulous frown pulled at his brow as he stared at Bilbo.

The Hobbit shrugged, and he felt foolish all of a sudden to assume anything so hastily. “I thought... I saw you and Dwalin sparring, and he was talking about relationships and such... I didn't get it all, but I thought...”

Bilbo dared peek at Thorin who was just staring at him in complete shock.

“You thought what?!” the king finally exclaimed, and Bilbo felt anger and embarrassment creeping hotly into his cheeks. 

Thorin's incredulous mien suddenly changed into a gentle, fond expression, and he smiled at Bilbo while shaking his head. “Foolish Hobbit,” he chided gently. “Fretting so much. I'm not with Dwalin. Know, for now and all times, that I love only you.”

Bilbo felt, if that was even possible, his face heat even more, and he nodded jerkily, his lips drawn into a sulky pout, while his heart beat like mad. Surely, Thorin could hear it thump thump thump from where he stood.

Once more, a heavy, awkward silence settled over them that was practically stifling.

“Good,” Bilbo managed eventually, clearing his throat again. “Great that we clarified that... Ehm, how's the progress of Kili's engagement to Tauriel going, by the way?”

Thorin chuckled mildly at the Hobbit's distraction tactic. “Fine.”

“Oh, that's great.” Awkwardly, Bilbo started bouncing on the balls of his feet, still clutching the bloody towel in front of him, and he wouldn't look at Thorin any more although, in turn, he could feel the king's intense gaze focussed on his person. “I'd have thought you were against this relationship.”

Bilbo saw Thorin shrug from the corner of his eye, absent-mindedly noticing the enticing play of muscles at the gesture, and he realised with a pang that they were both still completely starkers. Quickly, he fixed his gaze onto the smooth stone floor between them. 

“I was, at first,” Thorin replied, and Bilbo had to concentrate to remember what it actually was they were talking about. “But it pisses Thranduil off more, so it's fine.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. He should have known that that would please the king immensely, even if he'd never have thought that it would be enough to change Thorin's opinion of anything Elven, and especially not going so far that he would allow his nephew to marry one. Maybe he had mellowed after his almost run in with death itself and almost losing both his nephews. That would be nice, Bilbo thought, that Thorin now seemed to consider the things worth living. Not to forget that his new views were good for politics...

“And anyway,” Thorin surprisingly continued, “I can hardly object my nephew marrying a non-Dwarf when I've found my One among another race, too.” Thorin's features darkened almost to the point of pain. “Even if I don't deserve him.”

At that, Bilbo's gaze snapped back up to Thorin to look him straight in the eye. “Wha... Huh? What are you talking about? You don't deserve me? It's rather the other way around, is it not?” he blurted out although he hadn't really wanted to reveal so much. “I'm clearly not good enough for a king, and anyway, I thought you'd be ashamed about what happened between us, and were sending me away because of that.”

Thorin's gaze snapped up to Bilbo, rage and astonishment visible on his face. “I could never be ashamed of you!” he roared fiercely, making Bilbo actually jump in surprise. The Dwarf took a step closer to Bilbo, but the Hobbit wasn't afraid. He held his ground until the Dwarf stood so close before him that he felt his body's furnace-like heat licking at his still slightly moist, cooling skin. 

“It is me who brought shame upon us both with my grievous deed I have subjected you to.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. Not that again!

“Thorin, I told you, it's fine. You were sick. And anyway, nothing happened. The others stopped you, didn't they.”

Abruptly, Thorin stumbled back a step, jarred. His mouth opened and closed a couple of time as he sought for words. “You think that...” he stammered, aghast. “You think I'm talking about what happened on the battlements?”

“Ehm, yes?” Bilbo frowned in confusion.

“I don't,” Thorin snapped, agitated. “Of course I am deeply ashamed of my behaviour then as well, but I'm talking about forcing myself on you in the treasury.”

The Dwarf made a wounded noise deep inside his throat as just speaking the brutal truth out loud ripped him apart on the inside.

Bilbo sucked in a sharp breath as he suddenly realised what Thorin had been talking about the whole time. He wasn't ashamed of their tryst, he was ashamed because he thought he... Oh dear, and the others, the whole Company also thought Thorin had _raped_ him!

Yavanna's tits, what a mess.

“Thorin, no!” Bilbo exclaimed. Dropping the towel, he placatingly raised his hands, but he didn't dare touch the agitated Dwarf. “You get it all wrong. I _wanted_ it!”

The Dwarf's features pulled into a heavy, sceptical frown. 

“I swear,” Bilbo tried to persuade him. “I liked what you were doing to me. Even if I have to admit the circumstances could have been... better. But I promise I could have stopped you if I hadn't wanted it.”

Thorin grimaced. “No, you wouldn't have,” he whispered hoarsely.

Thorin's words made Bilbo wince since an ugly little voice inside his head mocked him cruelly that he, indeed, wouldn't have been able to stop the much stronger Dwarf. And worse, that Bilbo had only allowed Thorin to have his way with him as he pleased because, deep down, he had been too afraid of what Thorin would have done to him if he had actually tried to tell him no. 

Adamantly, Bilbo ignored that vicious voice. He refused to be a victim, especially as his dearest dream seemed to come true right here, right now. Thorin loved him! Loved him more than Bilbo ever thought was possible, and he wouldn't allow anything and anyone to come between them now, and be it his own head. 

Stubbornly trying to reinforce his words, he stepped closer to Thorin, unmindful of the absurd ridiculousness of the situation that they were having probably the most important discussion of their lives completely naked in the royal baths in the middle of the night. Swallowing any lingering trepidation, Bilbo raised his hand, and finally placed it onto Thorin's chest. The Dwarf sucked in a sharp, surprised breath, and a full-body shudder ran through Bilbo as he touched Thorin's naked skin for the first time. He felt Thorin's heart beating strongly underneath his cool palm, filling Bilbo with indescribable joy that he had been granted the chance by the Valar to stand here and now, touching Thorin, instead of having to mourn the one he loved lying cold and dead buried in a tomb of stone while Bilbo lived his lonely life in Bag End. 

Swallowing heavily around the lump of emotion in his throat, Bilbo forced his gaze away from where his hand lay on Thorin's strong, hairy chest up to the Dwarf's face. Tears blurred his vision for a moment which only cleared as the tears spilled from his eyes to run down his face.

“I love you, Thorin,” he whispered hoarsely, shamefully realising that until now, he hadn't even told Thorin how he himself felt. 

Amazingly, tears now streamed down the proud king's face as well. Disbelievingly, he shook his head. “How can you?” he whispered brokenly. 

“Because you're worth every hardship I have to master. Did that finally get through your hard skull?”

Thorin once more shook his head, in disbelief, but also probably questioning Bilbo's sanity choosing him of all people. 

“Yeah,” he replied though, and a surge of relief swept through Bilbo.

“Good,” he stated.

Thorin nodded. “Good.”

And just like that, the awkward silence from before returned, with them standing in the middle of the baths – still naked –, and Bilbo pressing his hand above Thorin's heart.

“Would you lay with me?” the king suddenly blurted into the uncomfortable silence, startling both Bilbo as well as himself. Hope shining in his blue eyes, Thorin bridged the distance between them so that their bare bodies were almost touching, Bilbo's hand still squished between their chests. Thorin lowered his head to press his forehead against Bilbo's, his dark tresses of hair falling around them both like a veil to shield them from the rest of reality. “Right here, right now? Both of us untainted by dark greed and ill obsession, our feelings for each other not twisted and corrupted by my madness? Will you allow us to start anew?”

At first, the only thing Bilbo could do was suck in deep breaths as Thorin breathed these almost painfully formal words against his face in a shuddering sigh, and he needed a moment to break them down to their core meaning. When he finally did, their implications hitting him with crystal clarity, he felt as if fire and light soared through his body all at the same time. As if compelled by a magic spell, Bilbo nodded, heartfelt. 

“Okay,” he simply answered in the end, unable to muster up any words that were a bit more intelligent or appropriate for the sublimity and solemnity of the occasion. 

For a moment that seemed to last a small eternity, the Dwarf and the Hobbit stared deeply into each other's eyes that were wide with awe, and wonder, and love, completely immersed in their own world. 

But then, Bilbo surrendered to the firestorm that were his baser instincts which he couldn't ignore any more. They rippled through his whole body like a sudden bout of chills. He finally tilted his head upwards to passionately crush his mouth onto Thorin's in a hungry kiss.

Groaning, Thorin's strong hands came up to clutch at Bilbo's shoulders, so that he could pull the Hobbit flush against him. Bilbo mewled into Thorin's mouth as their naked bodies came into skin-to-skin contact for the first time ever, and his arms went up to wrap them around Thorin's neck, his fingers burying in the Dwarf's thick, ebony hair, tugging and twisting the coarse strands frantically to feel as much of Thorin as he possibly could. 

The needy noises he was making morphed into a surprised squeak as Thorin suddenly lifted him so that he instinctively wrapped his legs tightly around the king's waist. His heartbeat sped up as he felt Thorin's hot length rub between his buttocks, Thorin's sturdy fingers digging into the soft flesh of his thighs and his behind as he held him up seemingly without any effort. Bilbo couldn't help himself but grind his own weeping member against the Dwarf's rock-hard abs in desperate search of some relief.

A strangled noise of protest escaped him as Thorin pulled back all of a sudden. Dazed, Bilbo blinked at him, his moist, kiss-bitten lips parted wantonly. He met his lover's gentle eyes that were drinking in the sight of him almost reverently. 

“Not like that,” Thorin said softly, his deep, rumbling voice sending shivers through Bilbo's whole body. 

Bilbo cocked his head as his lust-addled brain needed a moment to comprehend the meaning of Thorin's words, but before he could even form a reply, Thorin began to move. Bilbo didn't know where the Dwarf was carrying him since he was held spellbound by Thorin's eyes that were so full of love that it almost brought the Hobbit to tears.

Suddenly, he was jostled slightly, his world tilting, and Thorin gently laid his pliant body onto the ground. In wonder, Bilbo forced his gaze away from Thorin to see where the king had taken him. His breath caught. He was lying on a jetty that extended into the biggest of the pools a bit that was almost a small lake. It was made from smooth marble that was pleasantly warm on Bilbo's back, probably heated by the hot spring water lapping at its foundations. The edges of the jetty were lined with intricate crystal lanterns that were partly embedded into the marble, their gentle, golden shine bathed their surroundings in a glittering, golden hue. Bilbo looked up once more to the Dwarf hovering over him, and he gasped softly. The light of the lanterns had turned Thorin's body golden, his skin now moist with beading perspiration shining like polished gold. His eyes seemed to sparkle as the golden light catching in them only enhanced the shocking blue of his irises. 

Smiling painfully gentle, Thorin lowered himself onto Bilbo all the way. Another small gasp escaped the Hobbit at the intimate skin on skin contact, and he instinctively spread his legs to receive Thorin's body between his thighs. 

Anticipation raced through him like lightning, and he held his breath as he suddenly felt slick fingers brushing the tight ring of muscle of his opening. From the corner of his eye, Bilbo saw a small crystal flask clutched in Thorin's other hand, and for a moment, he wondered where the Dwarf had gotten it from . 

In the end, it didn't really matter though, didn't it.

Bilbo sucked in a sharp breath when Thorin finally ceased prodding his thick fingers teasingly against Bilbo's entrance, and instead slipped one oiled finger inside of him. His hips urged closer to Thorin automatically, and the finger slid deeper. 

“Thorin,” he gasped, one hand came up once more to firmly sink into Thorin's hair, the other clawing at the Dwarf's shoulders so he had something he could anchor himself to. Wide-eyed, he met Thorin's gentle gaze. “M-more, please.”

The only reaction Thorin showed to Bilbo's plea was the flaring of his nostrils. Instead, he mutely complied, and started thrusting his finger in and out of Bilbo, painfully slow but firm which made the sensations all the more intense. 

He continued to do so for quite a while, and Bilbo appreciated that, this time, his lover took so much care to prepare him so thoroughly, but did Thorin have even the slightest idea how maddening the pleasure was that was thrumming through Bilbo? When, eventually, Thorin's finger brushed that pleasure spot inside of him that had Bilbo seeing stars, the Hobbit was reduced to thrashing underneath the Dwarf's bulk, gasping and mewling wantonly. He actually sobbed in relief when Thorin added a second slicked finger, and continued to open him up.

Finally, Thorin pulled out of him, the horribly bereft feeling only appeased by the knowledge of what was to follow now. With bated breath, Bilbo watched Thorin pour more oil onto his hand before he squeezed it between their bodies. He couldn't see Thorin actually massaging his engorged flesh with his slick hand, so instead, Bilbo watched his face; the dilating of his pupils before his eyes fluttered shut, his mouth fallen open to exhale soft puffs of breath that morphed into a throaty groan. It was pure torture! 

Sudden impatience overcame Bilbo, and, mustering up all of his strength, he rolled them both around, taking Thorin's unresisting form by surprise. His legs splayed wide left and right of Thorin's hips, Bilbo rose up on his knees. Reaching behind him, he blindly felt for the hot, slick length nestled against his buttocks, and wrapped his fingers around it. Thorin's girth was so wide that Bilbo's slender fingers hardly managed to close them around the rock-hard length. Tightening his hold which had Thorin hitching a breath, Bilbo slowly lowered himself onto the slick shaft, never once breaking their intense eye contact in the meantime. He whined low in his throat as he forced himself to take in Thorin's length, the noise turning into a sob of relief when his lover finally breached him, Bilbo's body taking him in greedily inch by inch until he had received him into his body completely. Every muscle in his oversensitive body was singing with pleasure-pain, the arousal thrumming through his veins together with the rush of his blood. He would possibly never be able to describe how glorious his lover's member splitting him open felt. Never in his whole life had he felt as fulfilled as now. 

Once again, the Hobbit and the Dwarf seemed as if suspended in time, their bodies joined as one and their hearts beating in tandem as they lost themselves in each other's eyes. 

“ _Amrâlimê_ ,” Thorin breathed heavily, his voice hoarse with the awe he was feeling for Bilbo as he looked up at the vision above him in sheer wonder.

Bilbo didn't understand the meaning of the word, but it was clear that it was some kind of endearment. He swallowed heavily around the lump of emotions in his throat.

Leaning forward slowly, the throbbing pressure of Thorin's length so deep inside of him palpable with every small shift of his muscles, Bilbo placed his hands onto the solid muscles of Thorin's pectorals, always mindful of the fresh scar, so he could cling to _something_ as he finally started to move. 

At first, Bilbo's movements were still a little hesitant and insecure, but the more the pleasure racing through him seemed to mound with every passing second, the more confident he became. 

With fluent rolls of his hips, Bilbo moved atop Thorin with abandon while his lover met his every move with powerful strokes of his hips that buried his length inside Bilbo's willing body so impossibly deep, over and over. Every time the Dwarf's cock crashed into Bilbo's pleasure spot, a gurgled shout of ecstasy escaped him, and the tips of his fingers clawed deeper into the rock-hard muscles of Thorin's chest for leverage. 

Bilbo's heart ached, but this time not with despair and pain but longing and love. He felt truly whole for the first time in his life, and one look into Thorin's wide eyes told him that the Dwarf was feeling the same. 

It was that knowledge, combined with the ecstasy spiralling through him which finally let him surrender to the throes of pleasure. Thorin craning his neck and unexpectedly whispering “I love you” into his ear was the final straw for the Hobbit. 

With a strangled scream, the swirling pleasure inside of him exploded, his member spurting wetly all over Thorin's chest completely untouched as he fell apart. 

Bilbo forced his eyes open which he had squeezed shut on instinct as he heard Thorin's throaty moan. Wide-eyed, he watched his lover's face contort in need. For one last time, Thorin's hips bucked up to sheath himself as deep inside Bilbo as he could, his fingers digging hard into the soft flesh of Bilbo's hips. Bilbo joined the sweet moans his lover uttered as he felt he Dwarf's hot seed splashing the walls of his channel, marking him from the inside forever. 

Slowly, the ecstatic high Bilbo felt was fading.  His muscles feeling like mush, Bilbo allowed his exhausted body to collapse onto Thorin's strong chest that was heaving with the effort to draw in the next breath. The moment he collided with Thorin, the Dwarf's arms came up around him immediately. He felt absolutely wrecked, but there had never been greater joy for him. 

Manhandling the Hobbit's lithe body like a rag doll, Thorin pulled Bilbo up until he could reach his lips. All too willingly, Bilbo eagerly participated in the gentle kiss for a few long minutes as they lay there in each other's arms, breathing each other in.

“Will you marry me?” Thorin rasped against Bilbo's lips, both of them still in the process of catching their breaths, emotions almost bursting out of their chests, making them light-headed and feeling as if they were soaring.

Bilbo cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you had already decided that we would, what with gifting me the mithril shirt and the Arkenstone and probably a whole lot more symbols and gestures I didn't get yet.”

Thorin at least had the decency to blush under Bilbo's teasing, slightly mocking words, and abruptly, he rolled them both around so that they were both lying on their sides facing each other on the warm marble. A crooked, sheepish smile tugged at Thorin's lips, and he averted his eyes. 

“Sorry for that,” he mumbled, and grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath as Bilbo laughed at him good-naturedly, the clear sound of the Hobbit's voice echoing over the gently steaming water around them being carried through the cave-like room like the distant sound of bells. 

“That's why I'm asking now,” Thorin continued, trying to sound a little bit more composed and dignified, but clearly failing in Bilbo's eyes.

“Yes.”

Thorin's gaze snapped up to search Bilbo's face.

“W-what?” the Dwarf breathed, taken aback.

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I said yes, idiot. You asked me a clear question, and I gave you a clear answer. That's how it's done in the Shire... and probably everywhere in Middle Earth except with you Dwarves.”

He couldn't help the gentle teasing at the end, and laughed again when Thorin pouted at him, like Bilbo had anticipated.

“You'll see,” Thorin sniffed theatrically. “I'll make a Dwarf out of you yet. And then you'll be as bad as we are.”

Bilbo barked out a laugh, and playfully poked a sharp finger into the thick muscle of Thorin's chest. “You can try, Thorin Oakenshield, but you'll fail spectacularly.”

A smug smirk tugged at Thorin's lips. “I'm the king; I always get what I want eventually. And I have time to achieve my goal for the rest of our lives, after all.”

All teasing dissipated all of a sudden, and a strong sense of love swelled inside Bilbo's very soul to spread through every pore of his being. Unable to help himself, he bridged the short distance between them to press a heartfelt kiss onto Thorin's lips.

“Yeah,” he murmured against his intended's lips, “we do.”

** End **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul translations:  
> Amrâlimê – My love
> 
> Okay, I really hoped this worked. Inspired by the lovely story “Sweet is the Sound of Falling Rain” by Chrononautical, I felt the urge to write a steamy bath story myself. At the same time, rewatching the Hobbit, I so badly wanted to write a scene where Bilbo and Thorin have sex in the treasure halls during Thorin's madness (definitely with some dubious consent elements). I have no idea if combining the two very different plots worked at all (it probably didn't; I'm afraid the more erotic but lighter latter chapters completely refuted the darkness and seriousness of the first, so I had to find a way to make it at least a bit believable that Bilbo liked what Thorin was doing to him in the treasury). I dearly hope so. In my mind, at least, it was a good idea to mix these two scenes into one story, hoping it turned out as something organic and naturally fitting. Tell me what you think.


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